Stryker's Orders
by JackDante
Summary: Set during Creed and Logan's time spent with Team X, examining the interactions between the squad members, in particular Logan's reactions to Creed's downwards spiral into depravity. References to sensitive adult themes, but no graphic descriptions.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This was originally just a one-shot story written in a moment of random creativity, but due to positive feedback from various sources, I'll be following it up with successive chapters exploring the interactions between the members of Team X, focusing in particular on Logan's awkward relationship with his half-brother, Victor Creed. Thank you for reading and enjoying!

* * *

"Here are your orders, Victor. There's a small construction up there…" William Stryker spoke to the large, feral mutant standing in front of him with an authority that he hoped would sink in. Ever since Victor Creed and James Logan had agreed to be a part of Team X, they seemed to listen to him and obey his orders – at least, they had thus far. But you could never be sure with mutants, so he kept a careful eye on Creed as he delivered the mission brief, indicating with one hand a small concrete building a short distance away. "That building is where we believe one of the leaders of the resistance is hiding. Now, I know you have a certain way with women…"

Victor snickered softly to himself and glanced at the other squad members as Stryker said this, making it clear that he held mating rights over any females they should happen to meet. That was the way _he_ saw it, anyway, and he didn't give a shit if the others shied away from that fact. Wade, Zero and Dukes could at least hold his gaze when he boasted about the women he'd taken, even if there was a flicker of contempt in Wade's eyes; as expected, Wraith and Bradley couldn't ever bring themselves to acknowledge his brutal conquests, but they could at least try and ignore what happened behind closed doors, even if they didn't have to like it. One of the provisos of being a member of the group was not to question what the other members were doing, something that Stryker often reminded them all about on pain of being discharged. And God knew none of them had anywhere else to go.

"…which is why I'm asking you to do this for me," Stryker continued, looking at each member of the team in turn. James Logan was conspicuous by his absence, mainly because Stryker knew he'd never approve of the task he was about to give to Victor. Even though the two of them were half-brothers, Logan seemed to have a real problem with half of the missions they were sent to carry out – as any half-decent human being would, Stryker knew. The trouble was that they weren't _supposed_ to act like human beings, not in this squad. The 'special privileges' he'd alluded to when he'd hired the brothers were obviously being fully enjoyed by Victor more than Logan; clearly, he was having his brother's share, too.

"Now, this woman is known to be an active member of the local resistance group who have blocking our efforts for some time now. Subdue her in whatever way you see fit…" - again, a vicious grin from Victor – "…and find out where the rest of the resistance cell is holed up. Can you do that for me?"

"Candy from a baby," Victor smiled, flexing his fingers and allowing his nails to extend a centimetre or two as he took a step in the direction of the lean-to. "Give me fifteen minutes. If she hasn't cracked by then, she's probably dead."

As Victor loped up the rough dirt path to carry out his mission, the other members of Team X stood around awkwardly, each of them having their own opinions on the feral mutant's task at hand and the attitude he had towards carrying it out, but none of them wanting to really voice any of them… except, of course, Wade.

"Maybe you should get a spray bottle for him, Sir."

"Wade." Stryker's voice was a warning – but, as usual, a warning that was never heeded.

"I'm just saying, Sir, that's all. You never know, you might wake up one morning and find him grinding away at your leg..."

"That's enough, Wade."

"I'm sure you can get over-excited puppies neutered for a very low cost these days, Sir. Maybe you should think about…"

But whatever else Wade had been about to say was drowned out by the sound of an angry voice approaching from behind a nearby stand of trees, a shout that each and every member of the squad recognised as belonging to James Logan. Somehow, he knew what was going on up here, he knew what Victor had been ordered to do, and he'd come to put a stop to it. The team members stood around awkwardly as he approached, weapons at the ready, preparing to try and stop him as they'd been told to do.

"Where's Victor?" Logan growled as he reached them, glaring at each member of the team who barred his way. They stared back at him in return, none of them saying a word. Perhaps they were waiting for Stryker to say something, although knowing Wade, that was unlikely. In fact, the very fact that he was silent was ominous enough. "I mean it. Where is he?"

But Logan already knew. He could hear – had been able to hear for some time, thanks to his heightened senses – the harrowing screams of a woman coming from the small concrete building some distance behind the squad, and he _knew._ He wasn't sure what sickened him more; the fact that his own half-brother could be capable of committing such crimes, or the fact that his own colleagues could stand around and ignore it, or at least turn a blind eye to what was going on. What was _wrong_ with these people?

"I'm going in." He went to push past Bradley, the smallest of the group, but before he could get any further, a stern Stryker appeared from beside Dukes, shaking his head firmly.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Logan."  
"You know what he's doing in there, Stryker. I can't let that happen."

"I'm afraid it already is." Stryker seemed unconcerned by what was happening fifty metres away. "It's too late for you to play the hero. Now step down like a good soldier and let Victor carry out his orders."

"Orders?" Logan snarled, his muscles bunching and tensing, the lines of his bone claws already starting to show against the upper layers of his skin. "Orders? You're telling me was _ordered_ to go in there and do that?"

"I find it works best if you give orders to the right man for the job." Stryker brushed at an imaginary speck of dust on his uniform and sighed. "Victor seems to have a way with women, in case you hadn't noticed."

"I swear, Stryker, I'm going in there even if I have to take your goddamn head off to do it." Before any of the others could react, he shoulder-barged Stryker aside and dashed towards the door of the concrete shack, already hearing Stryker barking orders at Zero and the others to try and stop him. He didn't care; let them shoot. He'd get up again. He always did.

"I'd think again if I was you." Suddenly, John Wraith flickered into existence in front of him, almost getting bowled over by the charging mutant's approach, but Logan stopped just short and somehow managed to sidestep him, grabbing at the decaying door handle and throwing the door open, already knowing what he'd see inside. It hadn't been the first time and something inside him told him with a sickening jolt of intuition that it wouldn't be the last, but every time he had to see Victor doing something like this, it hurt him more and more. It was as if each time was a snapshot of evil, a glimpse into the downwards spiralling curve of Victor's depravity.

His brother stood over a small, makeshift bed, its sole occupant a young woman whose clothes were dishevelled and torn, and stained in more than a few places with fresh blood; she was curled up into a ball, weeping, sobbing, clutching her arms about herself and rocking gently. And over her stood Victor adjusting his belt buckle, a wicked sneer of triumph and satisfaction colouring his face, the look of pleasure twisting his features almost making Logan want to be physically sick.

"Victor." So intent did the woman seem to be in her own grief that she barely even registered Logan's entrance, the door slamming back against the wall as he stormed inside, but Victor noticed easily enough. His head whipped around in Logan's direction and a snarl began to form on his lips, the tips of his fangs already visible, his expression resembling that of a whipped dog.

"Jimmy!" he hissed, taking a step back. He'd done wrong here, and he knew it, but that didn't mean he had to justify it to anyone. "What the hell are you doing here?"  
"Trying to stop you," Logan growled, casting a look of pity in the violated girl's direction, "But it looks like I'm too late."

"It was an order," Victor purred smugly, his gaze also flicking over to where his victim sat; he regarded her not with pity, but with disgust.

"An order." Logan snorted angrily. "You're being ordered to do this to people? And you enjoy it?"

"Don't make me answer that, Jimmy. You already know the truth." With a sneer, Victor headed for the door, but Logan barred his way.

"You're not the same brother who told me he'd protect me all those years ago," the younger mutant intoned, determined not to lose Victor to the demons that seemed to plague him and drive him to such acts of horror. His brother was still there inside, he knew it, hidden within the wild, feral beast that Victor appeared to have become. "You've changed, Victor. I can see you've changed. But it doesn't have to be this way. I know you're better than this…"

"Better than _what,_ Jimmy?" Victor snarled, tired of hearing the same old arguments time and again, tired of hearing Victor's preaching and moralising. "I'm damn good at what I do, and you know it. If you can't cope with it, then that's your problem."

"Victor…"

"I don't have time for this shit." Without even a backwards glance at the life he'd destroyed, Victor glared at Logan until he reluctantly stepped aside, marching back down towards the rest of Team X to report what he'd found out. Logan, miserable and dejected, followed his brother, knowing that whatever Stryker wanted out of this encounter, there really wasn't much that he could do.

* * *

"Ah, Victor." Stryker strolled over to where the feral mutant stood as casually as if he had been taking a leisurely summer stroll. "Did you get the information I asked you to?"

"Of course. That, and a lot more." He grinned at his commanding officer, and Logan wondered how Stryker could even stand to be so close to him, let alone condone what he'd just done. "Sounds like her group are holding out three miles east of here. Their base is upriver; should be able to come at them from the small ridge behind their position."

"Good." The older-looking soldier nodded, and indicated with a wave that the group should ready themselves to move out soon. "Oh, and… Victor?"

The mutant cocked his head on one side.

"Don't forget to clean up the mess."

His face split into a toothy grin, leaving little doubt on anyone's mind what their commanding officer meant by that order; dropping onto all fours, he bounded eagerly towards the concrete hut, the anticipation of what was to come filling him with a whole new kind of pleasure.

Logan could only watch, his every instinct screaming at him from deep down inside that what they were involved in was wrong, so very, very wrong. And Victor, poor Victor, the brother who had all but raised him and protected him for over one hundred years… dear God. What had he become?


	2. Chapter 2

Team X's mission to take out the rebel cell had been even more successful than had been expected. After a bloody, decisive battle the rebels had been subdued and silenced – much to Victor Creed's enjoyment – before the squad had returned to base a couple of hours before nightfall, a collection of pre-fabricated concrete huts, one of which served as a basic barracks. In this bare shelter most of the squad were now gathered, Wade Wilson cleaning his sword blades, John Wraith reading quietly in the corner, and Fred Dukes gazing with longing at the small collection of photographs he held in his wallet, many of them women he'd never see again but whom he'd fallen in love with nonetheless. The sound of footsteps approaching the hut made Wraith and Dukes glance up, although Wade kept on staring intently down at his blades, focusing on the task at hand. Not many things could distract him from his weapons, a pair of oriental beauties that he always loved to take in hand. As the footsteps reached the door, it swung open to reveal a dishevelled – yet smiling – Victor Creed, his hands and clothes still stained a deep reddish-brown from the lives he'd taken earlier that day.

"Well, if it isn't Canada's answer to Casanova himself," Wade Wilson drawled, not even bothering to glance up as Victor Creed walked through the door. "Is it safe for me to get changed in here or are you still in heat?"

"In your dreams, Wade," Victor answered flatly, strolling straight over to his bunk and throwing himself down onto the tatty bedcovers, not caring that he also smeared a fair amount of the dirt and gore from his clothes all over the sheets.

"More like nightmares, actually. Does anyone here think it'd actually be _fun _to find a several-hundred-pound tomcat shedding all over their privates?" He glanced around the room quickly at the other squad members, but they both chose to ignore him, John trying to turn his attention back to the book he was reading. Not that the lack of having an interactive audience ever stopped Wade from talking. "Didn't think so."

"I don't think _I'm _the one who needs to get laid, Action Man," Creed answered drily from his bed, where he now lay back, arms behind his head, staring absently at the low ceiling. "_You're _the one who always seems to have to remind everyone of how little you're getting."

"And _you_, of course, are Don Juan." The expert swordsman stopped sharpening his blades for a moment, placing them down beside him and fixing Creed with the most patronising look possible. "I'd hardly call you a great lover, Victor. In fact, I'm willing to bet the last time you had anyone warm and willing was about a hundred years ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Wade," Victor answered smoothly, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he shifted position slightly and grinned over at the younger man. "I didn't realise you mother was that old."

"That's the thing." Wade didn't even skip a beat. "You see, it makes sense to me that you'd want a woman who could mother you. It figures that someone with your level of personal hygiene would go for some kind of diaper fetish."

"You know, that's fine talk from someone who's constantly spewing crap from just about every orifice."

"Guys," John Wraith sighed, exasperated. He'd just about had it with the constant antagonism between Wilson and Creed, and although he knew that he'd never be able to beat either of them down, he could at least voice his irritations. "Can't you just take 'em outside and measure 'em? Some of us are tryin' to enjoy some post-action quiet time here."

"Oh, you think this is about some kind of size contest?" Victor commented, his lips drawn back just enough so that everyone could see his fangs peeking out. "I thought it was because Wade is an annoying little shit."

"No," Wade shot back, taking up his now-pristine swords and sheathing them in one fluid motion, "It's about Victor being Stryker's new secret weapon in chemical warfare – at least, if his underarms are anything to go by."

"Okay, guys, that's enough." John shut his book testily and rose to his feet. "If you boys can't play nice in here, then I'm gonna go finish up readin' this thing outside. Fred, you comin'?"

The large blonde man stared indolently at his team-mates for a moment before shrugging and standing up beside John, pocketing his wallet with its many photos and popping a new stick of chewing gum into his mouth. Shaking his head and muttering under his breath, Wraith stomped outside with Dukes in tow, clearly annoyed by the fact that his colleagues couldn't spend two minutes in the same room with each other without having a verbal sniping contest.

"Looks like somebody got his period today," Wade smiled innocently as the door slammed shut.

* * *

James Logan was sitting on a roughly-hewn bench a short distance away from the barracks when Wraith and Dukes emerged. He glanced up at the two of them and raised an eyebrow as they came towards him, having just seen Victor enter a few minutes ago.

"Trouble?" Logan asked, hoping that Victor hadn't been winding them up again. His big brother always seemed to want to pick a fight these days, as if he had something to prove.

"Not really." Wraith shrugged. "Just that big ol' brother of yours bein' an asshole again."

"I can imagine." Logan pulled a stubby cigar from one of his pockets and placed it into his mouth before lighting it. "You need me to have a word?"

"It's nothing Wade can't handle," Wraith sighed. "The pair of 'em are havin' some kind of a pissin' contest in there, and I don't wanna see what happens if they actually start layin' into each other."

"I doubt even Victor would be that stupid," Logan muttered. The two of them may have had superior healing abilities, but there was only so much fast healing could do; something as serious as a sword to the neck would probably prove to be pretty fatal. "And I think even Wade would know where to draw the line."  
"Yeah, well, think again," Wraith commented. "My money's on the two of 'em comin' to blows one day, and when they do, it ain't gonna be too pretty."

* * *

It was late before the camp settled down for the night. At some point, Victor had grown tired of Wade's endless prattling and disappeared into the darkness somewhere, much to Stryker's irritation, but Logan had assured their commanding officer that his half-brother was more than capable of looking after himself. After all, they'd survived alone in conditions far worse than this. A short while later, however, Fred Dukes' absence was also noted, something which did begin to bother Logan. As far as he knew, Victor hadn't ever had a problem with the blonde bruiser, but after what had happened this afternoon with Wraith and Dukes walking out of the barracks… Victor wouldn't take offence and try and get revenge on Dukes for that, would he? He'd played some pretty nasty tricks on supposed colleagues before, like that time when they'd been camped in Northern France and a man they'd once fought alongside had made the first move on a girl Victor had wanted. The poor man had woken up one morning to find his uniform in shreds and had been disgraced for letting the appearance of his whole squad down.

"Maybe you'd better go look for them," Bradley had suggested when Logan had voiced his concerns. "I mean, my night vision's pretty much non-existent, and there might be some pretty nasty wild animals out there…" Besides, he'd rather Logan would be the one to find Victor alone in the darkness, especially if he had those vicious, sharp claws of his unsheathed. "I mean, I'd give you a hand, man, but I'm busy doing this… crossword," he finished lamely, picking up a nearby newspaper that wasn't even in English.

"It's alright, Bradley. I understand." Logan could sympathise with the small British man's plight. As far as mutations went, Bradley's was somewhat specialised, and being surrounded by the rest of the squad must have made him feel like a rabbit in the midst of a pack of wolves. "I'll go and see if I can see any sign of them."

Outside, it was pitch-black. The camp was miles from any built-up areas and the nearest city was at least an hour away by helicopter, which lent the night a strange, lonely kind of feel, as if Team X were the only people left in a world filled with shadows and stars. A soft breeze rustled through the nearby trees, ruffling Logan's hair and bringing the rich scent of earth to his nostrils, stirring within him a kind of closeness to the wild places of the world that he hadn't felt for some time. He sighed wearily and closed his eyes, remembering when wild places had been all that he'd known, when soil and leaves and miles of unpopulated forest had been his world. When he and Victor had first fled from their home, a home they hadn't known they'd shared until the night they'd both had to leave, they'd had to live rough and survive as best they could in the wilds of Canada; it hadn't been easy, but it had brought the two of them closer to each other than they ever could have imagined and formed a bond that they both knew could never be broken. Even now, with that bond beginning to strain, Logan knew he could never truly be apart from Victor, no matter what happened between them.

"Jimmy!" The unmistakeable sound of Victor's voice brought Logan back to the present. "Jimmy! Over here!"

"Victor?" Logan replied, following the sound of his brother's voice to a small building on one side of the camp, a tiny shelter which was used mainly for storage. He peered around quickly, unable to see his brother, although he could definitely smell him nearby. He could also detect Dukes'scent, too, which wasn't particularly reassuring. "Victor, what have you been up to? Is everything alright?"

"Everything's fine, Jimmy." Logan could pinpoint the sound of his brother's voice now, coming from inside the small storage room. "Come in here a minute. There's something I want to show you."

"This had better be good," Logan growled, already fearing what he'd find. Did the smell of Dukes mean that Victor had already dispatched him? Or did Victor have Dukes tied up somewhere as a punishment for not staying to listen to his verbal slanging match with Wade earlier? Cautiously, he pushed open the door to the shelter and stepped inside – only to have the door slam firmly behind him. "What the…"

There was the sound of scuffling, then a snapping noise, but as Logan grabbed the door and tried to wrench it open – discovering it to be firmly locked from the outside – he was momentarily blinded by a sudden bright light, the light of a powerful torch being shone down into his face from what passed as a tiny window, a hole in the concrete at the top of one wall. The opening was only there to provide ventilation; there was no way he could possibly hope to climb out of the tiny hole. Then there was the sound of deep, mocking laughter – Victor's laughter, Logan knew – and as his eyes adjusted to the artificial brightness of the light, he could make out the presence of another figure in the small room, and he realised he'd been tricked. The figure of a woman, crouched and bleeding in the corner, sobbing softly to herself…

"Oh, God, Victor…_ no_…"


	3. Chapter 3

"Well, Jimmy? How do you like your little present?" Victor snickered, his face appearing in the small space in the wall. "Aren't you going to unwrap it and see what it can do? Don't worry, I haven't used this one yet. She's all yours."  
"This isn't funny, Victor," Logan snarled, his mind already running through the possibilities, trying to think of a way he could get the poor woman to safety. But the room was small, and the reinforced door was securely locked; there was no way he'd be able to break out through the walls with only his bone claws as a weapon. Bone was no match for solid concrete. With a sickening jolt, Logan now realised where Victor had been for the past few hours; out on a hunt for fresh meat. Only the meat was human, and clearly very, very scared. "Let me out of here, and let this woman go. You've gone far enough."

"It's not going to be as simple as that," Victor snickered, clearly enjoying every moment of this. It horrified Logan to know that his own brother was gaining some kind of twisted pleasure from this torment, but for now, he was powerless to do anything but go along with Victor's game, whatever it was. "We're not going to let you out of there unless you show me what you can do."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Logan snarled, although he knew full well what his half-brother was trying to suggest. "If you think I'd even _consider_ doing anything to her…"

"Wouldn't you?" Victor gloated, his voice oily and smug. He knew full well what Logan thought of the way he treated women, and he took a sick kind of pride in the fact that he could violate them so easily, gloating over his conquests to the rest of the squad. "How do you know whether you'd enjoy it or not, Jimmy? You've never even tried it before."

"I'm not a monster, Victor."

"Of course you're not. It's perfectly normal for a human being to slice someone's guts open with a set of bone claws," Victor chuckled nastily. "Now, if you don't try and catch her – if you don't try and show her that you're a real man…" Logan heard the sound of a large weapon being cocked, and the next thing he knew, another face had shown itself at the small window, along with the barrel of a large rifle; Dukes. Fred Dukes. He was in on this with Victor, and from the smile on his features, he was enjoying himself just as much as his depraved half-brother. "…you never know, Jimmy. This thing just might go off. If it hits you, we both know you'll get up again, but her? I don't think she'll be as lucky."

"You wouldn't _dare!"_ Logan hissed, the look on his face one of horror and disbelief. Victor had played a few tricks on him before, sure, but nothing that even touched upon this. Nothing that had ever endangered anyone else's life.

"Wouldn't I?" Victor smiled, exposing his wickedly sharp teeth. "It's almost as if you don't know your own brother, Jimmy…"

At that moment, there came the sounds of a sharp yelp and a brief scuffle from outside the building; although Logan couldn't hear exactly what was happening, he could make out what he thought to be Bradley's voice, sounding confused and more than a little scared. Victor frowned and ducked out of sight, leaving Logan alone with the terrified woman, her blade held out towards him, babbling words which were unintelligible but clearly conveyed her sense of fear and resentment.

"Just back off, lady," Logan murmured, speaking firmly but softly in a tone which he hoped would be understood, even if his words wouldn't. "I don't mean you any harm. I just want the both of us to get out of here in one piece, you understand?" Again, a string of phrases which he couldn't make out. "Alright. Fine. I'm going to come towards you and get the knife, just put the knife down…" Angrily, she slashed at him, opening up a wound across his forearm which started to heal almost as soon as it had been made; she stared at him in utter disbelief, and started to scream. Closing his eyes, and wishing he was a million miles away, Logan just sighed.

* * *

Meanwhile, outside the hut, Dukes had the barrel of his weapon trained upon a terrified Bradley as Victor's claws closed around the small man's throat.

"So you're telling me you just _happened_ to be taking a walk in this direction?" Victor growled, his face so close to Bradley's own that spittle flecked his cheek. "_Sure _you did, Bradley. You always were the first to volunteer to go for a walk alone in the dark, weren't you?"

"V-Victor…" Bradley's voice came out in a choked gasp, his own hands desperately trying to pull the other mutant's away from his throat, even though he knew he didn't stand a chance. Victor's eyes were filled with the same kind of ferocity as they did when he was on the hunt, a half-crazed, animalistic stare that would have caused fear in even the most experienced of soldiers. And even though Bradley knew logically that Victor would never get away with attacking another member of Team X, that didn't stop him from wondering what would happen if he did… "Victor… please, man! I c-can't… can't breathe!"

"That's not _my_ problem." With a sneer, Creed let the smaller man drop to the floor, where he clutched at his throat and began to cough. "Now, how about you stop playing the fool and tell me why you really came out here. Isn't it past your bedtime?"

"I… I just wondered where Logan had gone," Bradley answered lamely. It was the truth; after Logan had left to gone and look for Victor and Dukes, Bradley had started to run over various possibilities in his mind as to what could have happened to the other mutant, none of which were pleasant. If he were being honest with himself, Bradley had to admit that agreeing to be a member of Team X had been one of the most foolish decisions of his life, but he was in way too deep to be able to back out now. The things they'd seen, the things they'd done… he couldn't go back to a normal life, not now. Especially knowing that half of the people he was working with were vicious, cold-blooded killers who wouldn't hesitate to snap each others' necks given half a chance. Of all of them, only John Wraith and James Logan had shown him any kind of hospitality, and he supposed that was why he'd come out to look for Logan tonight; if Logan got hurt, or even killed, that only left Wraith to watch his back. And against the rest of the team, Wraith didn't stand much of a chance, either. Besides, whatever Victor and Dukes were up to here, it didn't look good. Swallowing nervously, Bradley staggered to his feet and stared uncertainly up at Victor Creed, summoning every last ounce of courage that he had. "I… I think you should stop whatever's going on in there."

"Do you." Victor leaned down and grinned at the smaller man, his large hands twitching as his nails began to grow, horribly curved talons emerging from his calloused fingers. "And why, do you think, should I should listen to you?"

"Because if you don't…" He was visibly shaking now, but determined to carry on nonetheless, refusing to allow Victor's scare tactics to put him off. "If you don't…"

"Then you'll what, Bradley?" Victor hissed, looming over the smaller man; tall, wide and menacing, he was every inch the overbearing bully. "What will you do if I don't stop? Tune yourself into the BBC World Service and bore me to death?" Even Dukes snickered at that one. "Or maybe you'll use those amazing powers of yours to make your torch keep flashing in my face. That's some terrifying stuff you got there, limey. I'm already pissing my pants."

"I'm going to tell Stryker what's going on." Even though Victor's words had speared him like poisoned barbs, Bradley stuck to his guns. "I know he likes you, but I don't care what you say, he won't like what's happening here."

"That's just fine by me," Victor laughed, his chuckle echoed by Dukes. "Run along to teacher and tell him that class is almost finished." Bradley didn't need telling twice. Gulping, barely even able to believe that he'd practically stood up to the two largest members of the team, he turned on his heel and scurried back into the night. "Pathetic," Victor murmured as he and Dukes returned to their entertainment. As they took up their positions by the small window, they could see Logan engaged in some kind of tussle with the woman, only just managing to keep her at bay.

"Give her a kiss, little brother!" Victor taunted, Dukes backing him up with smacking noises. "Show her you really care."

"I swear, Victor, when I get out of here, you are going to pay for what you've done!" Logan snarled, a cold, vicious kind of resentment building up inside him; how could his own brother have come up with something as disgusting as this? His own flesh and blood? "You're getting way out of hand, and you can't even see that what you're doing is wrong!"

"Oh, I know it's _wrong,_ Jimmy," the older mutant smiled, watching Logan and the woman circle each other warily, "But it's still a lot of fun."

* * *

"Victor. Dukes. Would you care to explain what's going on here?" Stryker suddenly appeared from the darkness, impressively stealthy by his standards, with Agent Zero and Bradley in tow; neither of them looked particularly pleased, and Bradley looked positively terrified. "Some of us have actually worked rather hard today and are trying to sleep."

"We're just trying to get Logan to lighten up a bit, Sir," Victor offered, already feeling disappointment as he knew that the game had come to an abrupt end. Stryker also couldn't help but notice the fact that, no matter how he phrased it, the way Victor addressed his commanding officer always seemed to come out as sounding patronising.

"Are you." Stryker glared at the large mutant, gun in hand. "And how, exactly, are you doing this?"

At that moment, there was a particularly loud scream from inside the room, loud enough to cause Stryker to wince and make Zero reach for his sidearm. Victor's mouth twitched into a grin, although he didn't break eye contact with his commanding officer for even a second.

"Nothing that a little loving wouldn't cure, Sir," Victor sneered.

"Victor, Fred, you step away from that wall right now. Zero, take the door. I'm sure it's nothing you can't handle." Stryker barked his orders abruptly, and even though he struggled to give the impression that he was in complete control of the situation, he couldn't help but feel like his aura of command was slipping, that the wild beasts he'd hand-picked for his squad were ready at any moment to turn around and savagely bite the hand that had been feeding them. "Now, when this is all cleared up, I'm sure you gentlemen can fill me on what exactly is happening."

Like an attack dog called to heel, Victor slunk away from the small window he'd been peering through, glaring at Stryker from beneath his heavy brows but not daring to question the man's authority… at least, not yet. Dukes just shrugged and moved to stand beside Creed, his expression reverting to one of vacant boredom now that the show was over.

"I'm ready, Sir." Zero nodded at Stryker, and their commanding officer gave a nod; faster than the eye could see, Zero had draw his gun and used it to shoot off the padlock which had been keeping the door closed, throwing the door open to reveal the scene inside; Logan was holding the woman at a distance, his arms showing multiple wounds from the knife she'd been wielding, his attention focused so much on not hurting her that it took him a moment to register Zero's presence in the doorway.

"Zero." Logan's voice was tired and filled with relief. "I swear, it's not what it looks like. Victor…"

"We know, Logan," Zero replied without a hint of feeling. "Just put her down and get out of here."

He didn't need telling twice. With a grunt of effort, Logan pushed the woman away from him with enough force that he'd have room to make a run for it but not so hard that she'd get hurt; that done, he raced for the door and out through it, Zero levelling his pistol at the woman who still cowered inside, her knife held out towards him, defiant yet cautious. Strings of phrases in the local dialect burst from her mouth, none of which Logan or Creed could understand, but it was clear that at least half of them were unflattering insults. Stumbling, cursing under his breath, Logan moved out to stand beside Stryker, grateful for once for the man's presence. He'd intervened - _this _time, at least. Possibly because he was concerned for Logan's wellbeing rather than that of the woman.

"Logan." Stryker spoke calmy, but with an air of authority. "It's been a long night. Get some rest."

"I'm fine, sir. Victor..."

"Will be dealt with. Go to the barracks, clean yourself up, and get a full night's sleep. We move out at 10:00am sharp tomorrow morning, and I need everyone in the best shape they can possibly be."

"But I..."

"Rest, Logan. Sleep. That's an order." He fixed the clawed mutant with a glare, and although Logan was aching, burning with a desire to punish Victor for what he'd tried to do, he did as he was told and retreated in the direction of the concrete barracks, leaving Stryker, Bradley and Zero to deal with the trapped woman - and with a sullen-looking Victor Creed. Stryker swiftly delivered instructions to Zero and Bradley to lead the woman away, presumably to safety, before taking Victor to one side; the commadind officer wore a tired look, weary of having to deal with Victor's recurring misdemeanours. This wasn't the first time the feral mutant had gone off on his own and done whatever the hell he'd wanted.

"You're going to let that woman go," Victor growled irritably as Stryker approached him. It was a statement, not a question. "I found her. She's mine."

"She's not a toy, Victor."

"You always let me have them before," he murmured petulantly, like a child being denied something as simple as a fairground ride or a handful of sweets. "You said we had privileges, Stryker. _Special _privileges. And I want mine _now_."

"Victor. Please. You're embarrassing yourself."

"Give her to me, Stryker." The large mutant fixed Stryker with an intense, predatory glare, a look which Stryker returned with cold disinterest even though he felt his bowels beginning to turn to water. He was always so very careful to seem calm and in command, even though he knew that he wouldn't stand a chance against those hideous claws. Without a doubt, he could punish Victor Creed for this incident, have him sent down for threatening a superior officer, not to mention what he had done to James Logan a short while earlier; but the simple truth was that Stryker needed Victor Creed. Needed him to get certain things done. Stryker needed Victor to see him as an ally, if not a friend. Of all the members of Team X, Victor was proving to be surprisingly compliant as long as Stryker could keep on giving him what he wanted. And right now, Victor wanted female flesh.

"Victor. Walk with me." The military officer set off at a brisk pace away from the rest of the squad, Creed following a short distance behind before easily catching up with him. Satisfied that they were far enough away to speak privately, Stryker turned on his heel and stared at Victor, speaking in a tone which brooked no argument. "Now, listen to me, Victor. You're valuable to me. You're one of the best soldiers I've ever had, do you understand?"

Victor nodded silently, although the compliment didn't sink in as well as it was supposed to. He'd been told many times over the years that he was a good fighter, due to his combat expertise and ruthless manner when faced with any number of enemies; he also possessed enough animal cunning to realise that his superiors flattered him in an attempt to keep him under control, hoping that their honeyed words would keep him sweet. Still, he listened to what Stryker had to say. After all, it was always nice to be flattered.

"Good. Now, the last thing I want to do is give you preferential treatment, for reasons I'm sure that you're aware of. You're all valuable to me for your own reasons; Zero, Wraith, your brother, even Bradley. I need all of you. But I can't go around showering favours on any single one of you. It's a delicate balance." He smiled conspiratorially. "At least, I can't be _seen_ to go around showering favours, if you see what I mean."

Victor snickered in response to his commanding officer's grin, understanding exactly how these things worked. Stryker had pretty much given him the go-ahead to do whatever he wanted so long as he wasn't caught by the rest of the squad doing it. Sure, that would cut down on some of his enjoyment, seeing as he liked to make the others squirm by sharing sordid details, but at least he'd still be able to experience those details in the first place.

"I see exactly what you mean, Sir," he purred, cruel delight shining in his eyes, even remembering to use the proper respect in addressing his commanding officer. A few moments ago, Victor had seemed like an attack dog being made to stay on its leash, but now that leash had been removed and he was free to hunt as he wanted.

"I'm glad we understand each other." Stryker turned his back to Victor, his gaze now set upon the floodlit camp a hundred metres away. "I ordered Zero to free her two hundred metres from the eastern edge of the camp after disarming her. Just so you know."

"Yes, Sir," Victor sneered, the desire to chase her down and claim her already bringing fire to his blood and a dull ache to his loins; watching Logan trapped in such a small space with the woman had aroused him more than his half-brother had realised. Seeing that girl trapped, fighting for her life, subject to his cruel whims with her fate balanced so precariously between life and death - it had stirred him into a lustful frenzy, and now he couldn't wait to spend his energies upon her, wanting to find her and bring her down brutally, claim her as his own. He was pacing now, restless and impatient, his ears already pricking up at the unfamiliar sounds of life in the surrounding foliage, his nostrils twitching as if trying to catch the scent of sweat and fear before slinking off into the night.

* * *

Stryker may have thought he and Victor were a safe enough distance away not to be heard, but he hadn't counted on Logan's superhuman senses; the brooding mutant stood in the shadows behind the makeshift barracks and sighed deeply. So Stryker was making extra allowances for Victor's increasingly violent and sadistic appetites, anything to try and keep the beast in check. If he didn't know better, he would have said Stryker was a little scared of his brother, scared of what he could do. Well, if their own commanding officer wouldn't mete out justice for what could only be described as war crimes, Logan would have to take matters into his own hands. Closing his eyes, he sighed and shook his head, bone claws already emerging from his clenched fists as he stepped out into the darkness.


End file.
